


Strength

by Cheeky_The_Monkey



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Hanging, M/M, Post-Canon, Trauma, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeky_The_Monkey/pseuds/Cheeky_The_Monkey
Summary: Benji reflects on his experience. Benji also has a very sore neck.Written for Whumptober 2020! Day 1 Prompt: Hanging.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951183
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Strength

Getting injured was part of the job- he knew that already. He was the one who worked so hard to get the bloody job in the first place, he knew the risks.

And yet…

All of the danger, all of the missions, all the cuts and bruises and broken bones and stab wounds, they all felt like an _Ethan_ thing. Ethan was the one they targeted. Ethan was the one who gave chase. Ethan was the one who fought. Ethan was the one who got hurt.

And Ethan _did_ get hurt, of course he did. Though he did prevail over the enemy, because he’s Ethan Hunt, at the end of the day he was still human and vulnerable. And if Ethan Hunt was vulnerable and accident-prone… where did that leave Benji?

His meagre reflection glanced back at him with concern in the wide bathroom mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible despite all of his attempts to conceal them. All of the cuts caused by glass shards had mostly scabbed over. That was a relief, for as much as he played violent video games, he never really liked the sight of blood. Especially Ethan’s blood.

Ethan survived by the skin of his teeth, as usual. He was injured, but he was alive. Benji didn’t expect anything less.

(Benji hadn’t mentally prepared himself for anything else.)

His reflection continued to stare at him. With a sigh, he carefully pulled down his turtleneck sweater. The bruises hadn’t magically disappeared. He cringed at them. Ugly purple and blue bruises ringing all around his neck, swollen and sore. Because he didn’t know any better, he raised his hand and gently used his index finger to poke at one.

All of a sudden the terrifyingly familiar pain slammed into him at full force.

_A scream- Ilsa’s scream- rang out and Benji hardly had time to process it as a warning before Lane ambushed him. Something was thrown around his neck and he wasn’t thinking straight and his body acted on reflex as he tried to tug the thing- rope, it was a rope- off his neck but then the gun was thrust out of his hand so he tried to defend himself to the best of his ability which wasn’t working since his punch was effortlessly blocked by Lane and he’d grabbed him by his coat and was shoving into a wall and ouch that hurt since Lane was surprisingly strong and forceful and then he wasn’t pulling him by his coat anymore._

_He was pulling the rope. The noose was being tightened._

_Benji panicked. He was being strangled and he could feel it crushing his throat, squeezing tighter and tighter in a matter of seconds so he grabbed the first thing he could reach (glass, luckily) and smashed it on Lane’s head. Though some of the shards fell on him, he had a fateful moment to ground himself and try and get on the offensive because there was a fucking bomb countdown and Ilsa was tied up and he needed to do something. But Benji had never been a good fighter. All his punches fell wide and Lane dodged with ease. Still, he tried and tried and tried to make a difference, to weaken Lane for Ilsa because he knew there was no way he could fight himself out safely, but then he felt his throat get squeezed and Lane was smirking and he realised all too late what was going on._

_He still had a noose around his neck._

_Ilsa might’ve said something, he wouldn’t have been able to tell, since he was too busy getting twisted and strangled and winded by Lane. It_ hurt, _it hurt it hurt it hurt but then Lane stopped. For one brief moment, Lane stopped. And in that moment he foolishly convinced himself that it was all over. That everyone was safe. That there was no bomb and it was all an excruciating nightmare and it was finished._

_Benji never got his way._

_As his exhausted body tried to recover on the ground, he vaguely took in the fact that Lane’s attention was on Ilsa. Which was very bad because Ilsa was still tied up next to that bomb that was still counting down with taunting beeps and ticks._

_He was about to begin to muster courage to fight again (because that’s what Ethan would do) until he realised he was being helped up onto his feet. Confusion washed over him until he noticed that he was being pulled up so high that his feet were off the ground. And he was being pulled up by his_ neck.

 _It hit him all at once. His airflow being cut off, the lack of support underneath him, the intensity of the rope (the_ noose _) cutting into his neck. He desperately tried to claw the rope away but he couldn’t feel his hands and he wasn’t sure whether that was because of the gloves or the shock or the cold or the lack of blood. He struggled and struggled and he couldn’t breathe and he was choking and there was fighting under him but he didn’t understand because he couldn’t breathe and then a box was kicked under him._

_As short of a man as he was, he managed to use his tip-toes to give the tiniest amount of support that looked like nothing but to Benji it felt like he’d just been given a new life. He could breathe again. And it was Ilsa that had been his saviour. And Ilsa was now fighting Lane somehow. Wasn’t Ilsa injured, though? It occurred to him that she needed help but he couldn’t do anything because the noose was still tight and Ilsa seemed to read his mind because she threw him a large shard of glass which he immediately began to try and slice off the rope above him with rekindled hope._

_Ilsa continued to fight Lane, but it soon became clear that Lane had the upper hand. His friend was exhausted and Lane was holding her and Benji couldn’t let him finish her off. So, with as strong a swing as he could manage, he kicked Lane in the back, sending him flying forwards and his important box flying backwards and all of a sudden he_ couldn’t breathe _again._

_He couldn’t breathe and the rope was tightening and his throat was being crushed and he couldn’t breathe and the rope burned and he wasn’t strong enough and he couldn’t breathe and it was too late and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t-_

The water hit his face like ice. It stung like hell but it was a very different pain, one that he welcomed gratefully. Never did he think he would ever welcome pain as a field agent. He wondered if Ethan ever felt that way. Not that he’d ever ask him.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door, and Benji quickly pulled up his turtleneck and dried his face.

If Ethan could manage to keep his pain to himself, then he could too. If he could at least be strong enough for that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment :)


End file.
